


My Heart Is Slipping

by cassiem



Category: Block B
Genre: M/M, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5669731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiem/pseuds/cassiem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding fanfiction of him and Jihoon, Taeil is forced to reevaluate their relationship...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart Is Slipping

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: Taeil stays up late browsing the Internet and looking at nothing, when he suddenly finds an explicit taepyo fic. He then spends the next day feeling really weird and awkward, but jihoon notices..

_My heart is slipping,_  
_My head is dizzy_  
_I’m not myself, what’s wrong with me?_  
_What do I do? I’m nervous_  
_Stellar - Vibrato_

 

Sleep hasn’t been coming easy to Taeil as of late. He doesn’t know whether it’s the winter air, or the approach of Christmas, or something else. Whatever it is, he hasn’t felt comfortable lately, lounging around the dorm, doing absolutely nothing. He wants to be busy, he wants to get out there and promote, to see all the other idols at music shows. He loves that atmosphere.

But here he is, at three in the morning, browsing Naver with nothing better to do. The others are all asleep – or at least he thinks. Jaehyo’s probably still awake, playing League, but he’s sure Jihoon and Kyung are sleeping.

He rolls onto his stomach and shifts the laptop so it’s in front of him, clicking around mindlessly, reading articles halfheartedly. There’s no scandals at the moment, everyone’s gearing up for MAMA which – depressingly – they will not be performing at. Which is probably a good thing. Being on the same stage as Big Bang would be intimidating, to say the least, no matter how far Jiho’s risen in the ranks this year.

Shaking off that train of thought, he types his own name into the search bar, wondering what comes up. There are references to his single, his profile, his weight – which he smiles bemusedly at; he’s put on a few kilos now that they aren’t promoting – his birthday, all of that. He then scrolls down to blogs, to see what people are seeing about him – could be interesting. And stops in his tracks.

“Taeil x P.O – Scandal.” He reads. “Taeil x P.O – I’ll Have You.”

He blinks, once, twice, unsure of what he’s reading is really there. Jihoon… and _him?_ Jihoon as in _maknae_ Jihoon? Jihoon as in Jihoon who never stops fooling around and playing, and always has a smile on his face? He knows fanfiction exists, of course – Kyung in particular loves reading out excerpts to Jiho – but he’s never come across it. He didn’t even realise he was being written about.

Slowly, _stupidly_ , his mouse seems to move of its own volition to click on the first title. The page opens up, and there’s a picture of him at some fansign, accompanied by a picture of Jihoon on a balcony, looking smouldering in sunglasses. Ignoring the way his stomach is churning, he scrolls down and begins to read.

It starts off reasonably tame. They’re at a concert, and backstage, Jihoon is fooling around with him like he always does – putting his hands all over Taeil any opportunity he gets. Except in this fanfiction, Jihoon walks him backwards until his back is against the bricks, and they’re both breathing heavily, and Jihoon leans down and kisses him, his lips brushing Taeil’s gently, the promise of something new –

Rearing backwards, he shuts the laptop and flings it away from him violently, staring at it in abject horror. Images of Jihoon are running through his head, the way the author wrote them: Jihoon’s hand pushing up his shirt, edging up his stomach, so warm against his ribs. The way his lips felt, insistent on Taeil’s. The way when, their tongues touched, something shot through Taeil, something like liquid pleasure.

 _Shit_. Shit. He gets off his bed and paces around his tiny little cupboard room, stomach roiling. It’s just fanfiction for fuck’s sake, just writing on a screen. It shouldn’t tear him up this much, shouldn’t make him feel sick to his stomach, a mix of something that’s both pleasure and pain sitting on his chest like a rock.

Slowly, his breathing returns to normal, and he reaches for the laptop again, clearing his history calmly and switching onto a video about fish to resume the status quo. It was just a stupid, silly fanfic. It doesn’t mean anything.

//

He’s awoken the next morning by a huge shape flopping down onto the blanket on top of him, painfully squishing him into the mattress.

“Get up, hyung!” Jihoon whines in his ear. “It’s past noon.”

Curling up into a ball, Taeil grabs the duvet with both hands and clutches it close to his chest. It’s no use, though, because Jihoon uses his height as leverage and rips it away from him.

He feels strangely naked, even though he’s wearing pyjama bottoms. He stares blearily up at Jihoon and squints. “What’re you doing? It’s still early.”

Jihoon grins and pokes Taeil on the leg. “Did you forget, hyung? We’re filming today.” Seeing the expression on his face, he rolls his eyes. “You remember. The CF?”

“No.” Taeil growls, sitting up on his elbows and reaching for the duvet, held tantalisingly out of his reach by Jihoon, who just holds it higher.

“Come _on_ , hyung!” Jihoon says, exasperated, flinging the duvet away and flopping down onto the bed again.

This time, there’s no thick duvet between them, allowing Taeil to feel the heat of Jihoon through the thin cotton t-shirt he is wearing. He shivers, a funny feeling in his gut, and rolls out from underneath Jihoon, clambering to his feet. Jihoon spreads out on the bed, turning to look at Taeil, pouting. Normally, Taeil’s all for wrestling with Jihoon; but this morning, even when his head is all fuzzy from sleep, something in him is rearing up at the contact.

He turns away and pulls on a shirt. “Alright. Coming.” He mutters over his shoulder.

//

There’s no behind the scenes camera for this CF – sometimes Seven Seasons hires a crew to follow them around for a day for footage they might need in the future – so he can stick his headphones in and be as antisocial as he wants to be. Which today is a lot, apparently.

Jiho notices, and shoots him a puzzled look, but he ignores it and continues tapping around on his phone, waiting for the filming to start. He opens up the browser on his phone, which automatically loads the homepage, Naver. He bites the skin on the inside of his cheek, the friendly green colour of the background bringing up memories of last night. Slowly, hesitantly, he types in a name he’d seen littered all over the search results last night, a combination of his name and Jihoon’s, stuck together. He scrolls through the blog posts, down to the images, and blinks. It’s filled with images of him and Jihoon – selcas; fantaken images of them at concerts, Jihoon hanging off him like a monkey like he always does; even candids when they were out and about.

He stares at the screen uselessly, feeling naive and strangely violated. Those moments were nothing but innocent, nothing but snapshots between an overly-touchy maknae who makes it his business to be all over everyone. Aren’t they? Still, he feels butterflies in his stomach as he scrolls through the pictures, stretching from recent times all the way back to their debut, feeling slightly sick.

“What’re you looking at, hyung?” Jihoon’s voice comes, softly, from his left, and it startles him so much he jumps, the phone leaping out of his hand and clattering to the floor.

“For fucks’s _sake_ , Jihoonie, don’t sneak up on me like that.” He scolds, retrieving his phone, relieved to see the screen hasn’t cracked, somehow unable to meet Jihoon’s eyes.

Jihoon’s fingers circle around his wrist, and he inadvertently looks up. Jihoon’s smiling widely and Taeil relaxes – it’s business as usual, then. “Come on, hyung. Filming’s about to start.” Jihoon says, pulling Taeil out of his seat, towards the waiting cameras.

//

“Where is Jiho?” He mutters, tapping his foot on the floor. Filming’s all finished and they’re all sitting in the van, ready to head back to the dorm (or respective apartments) – well, all except for Jiho and Jihoon, who are still inside somewhere, doing god-knows-what.

Kyung, who hears him through the open door, sticks his head in and shrugs. “Conspiring? When those two put their heads together it rarely ends well.”

Taeil just raises an eyebrow at him. “No one conspires in this group without you, Kyung.”

“That’s true.” Kyung says, taking a drag from his cigarette, smirking. “Oh, here they come now.”

Jihoon and Jiho slip into the van, Jiho taking his spot up the front, next to Minhyuk. Jihoon, to Taeil’s faint surprise, steps over Jaehyo’s outstretched legs and slides into the narrow back seat next to Taeil, bringing with him a waft of cold air and cigarette smoke.

“Do you have to sit here?” He asks, rather exasperatedly. He hates the smell of smoke, and Jihoon is wreathed in it. If they sit this close for the whole journey, he’ll have to wash this shirt when he gets home – even though he’s only worn it once.

Jihoon’s face falls a little bit, and he feels slightly guilty at that. When Jihoon smiles, he lights up from the inside, and Taeil hates to be the one to make that go away. He leans into Jihoon, acutely aware of the way he can feel the heat of younger man’s body through all the layers of clothing they’re wearing, and smiles. “Sorry, Jihoonie.”

Without hesitation, Jihoon’s hand finds his, and before he knows it, his fingers are laced with Jihoon’s, the maknae’s thumb stroking his gently. As Kyung jumps in the van and slams the door, he blinks. The way Jihoon’s thumb is moving is sending shivers down his spine, and he can’t bring himself to move his hand, despite the images from Naver swimming around in his head, flashing in front of his eyes like he’s stared at the sun too long.

//

He blinks groggily awake, his eyes falling on the clock on his bedside table: 12:04 pm – he’s slept in. Although that doesn’t really surprise him, considering the others had kept him awake – they were watching a movie or something very loudly. He’s pretty sure Minhyuk had ended up crashing in his old room instead of going back to his own apartment, and he’d bet some money that Jiho is still passed out on the lounge.

He goes to roll over and freezes, suddenly aware that there’s someone else in bed with him, their hand draped over his waist, wrapping around him, their body pressed up against his. He sits up abruptly and isn’t really surprised to see Jihoon in bed with him, wearing nothing but pyjama shorts and monkey socks, squinting up at him blearily.

“For _fuck’s_ sake, Jihoon!” He yells, scrambling out of bed, aware he’s wearing nothing but boxers, reaching for the t-shirt he’d thrown off in the night. “You can’t keep doing this.”

Jihoon shifts so he’s up on his elbow and frowns sleepily, his hair falling into his eyes, and Taeil is suddenly struck by how fucking beautiful he is and that terrifies him so he goes on the attack again. “You’ve seen what people are saying about us. What they think we _are_. You’re just fuelling the fire.”

“Do they have special telephoto lenses that can see straight through your curtains now, hyung?” Jihoon replies calmly, his voice sounding even more gravelly than usual. “That’s pretty impressive.”

Pulling on his shirt and backing away, wrapping his arms around himself – _forcing_ himself to look away from Jihoon’s bare chest – he sighs. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“And besides.” Jihoon continues like he hadn’t even spoken. “Would that be such a bad thing? Us being what they think we are.”

Taeil opens his mouth to protest, but the weight of what Jihoon’s just said settling around him like a blanket, warm and soft around his shoulders. He clings to it, even if he knows it’s wrong, knows it can’t be, what he’s suggesting. Jihoon watches him measuredly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Wordlessly, he reaches forward to grab Taeil by the wrist and yank him down into bed and – before he can even begin to form words – he’s lying flat on his back, Jihoon hovering above him.

“You want this too.” Jihoon breathes, and Taeil swears he can see Jihoon’s pulse jumping on his neck. “I can tell.”

Taeil doesn’t have the words to say that _yes_ he wants this, now that he can feel the heat from Jihoon’s body so fucking close to him, now that Jihoon is hovering above him with an expression of barely contained need on his face; but he’s scared, he’s fucking _terrified_ , so instead he grabs Jihoon and pulls him down into a fierce kiss.

The moment Jihoon’s lips find his, all his doubts, all his fears melt away. Jihoon’s tongue flicks out to trace a delicate line on his bottom lip and he trembles, delirious on the feel of Jihoon already. His hand trails down Jihoon’s back and he’s amazed at how _smooth_ and broad the maknae is, wonders how he never noticed that before. As Jihoon takes his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down ever-so-gently, Taeil gasps and arches upwards, digging his nails into the younger man’s back, suddenly unable to stand the feelings of lust overcoming him.  This is nothing like how the author described it; this is _better._

Jihoon pulls back slightly, breathing heavily, and rests his forehead against Taeil’s. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” He whispers, looking at Taeil earnestly.

“Sorry it took me so long to get the message.” Taeil whispers back, and, he realises as he pulls Jihoon in for another kiss, he’s being _completely_ honest. He wants Jihoon like this all the time, and he can’t believe it took fanfiction on Naver for him to notice it.

Jihoon smiles against his lips, and Taeil can’t help himself from smiling back, content.

**Author's Note:**

> a bit of a meta one, hehe!
> 
> I know I haven't posted a one shot in ages, I'm sorry. My inspiration has sort of flown out the window and I'm looking for it to get it back! But hopefully this is a step in the right direction.
> 
> My god, I've missed taepyo.


End file.
